The Young Gentleman and Lady's Monitor, and English Teacher's Assistant eBook

or not,
And let thy will
be done.
To thee, whose temple is all
space,
Whose altar, earth,
sea, skies!
One chorus let all being raise!
All nature’s
incense rise!

CHARACTER OF MAN.

Know then thyself; presume
not God to scan
The proper study of mankind,
is man.
Plac’d on this isthmus
of a middle state,
A being darkly wise, and rudely
great;
With too much knowledge for
the sceptic side,
With too much weakness for
the stoic’s pride,
He hangs between; in doubt
to act, or rest;
In doubt, to deem himself
a God, or beast;
In doubt, his mind or body
to prefer;
Born, but to die; and reas’ning,
but to err:
Alike in ignorance, his reason
such,
Whether he thinks too little
or too much:
Chaos of thought and passion,
all confus’d;
Still by himself abus’d,
or disabus’d:
Created, half to rise, and
half to fall;
Great lord of all things,
yet a prey to all:
Sole judge of truth, in endless
error hurl’d;
The glory, jest, and riddle
of the world!

WINTER.

See! Winter comes, to
rule the varied year,
Sullen and sad, with all his
rising train,
Vapours, and clouds, and storms.
Be these my theme;
These, that exalt the soul
to solemn thought,
And heavenly musing.
Welcome, kindred glooms!
Congenial horrors, hail!
With frequent foot,
Pleas’d, have I, in
my cheerful morn of life,
When, nurs’d by careless
solitude, I liv’d,
And sung of nature with unceasing
joy.
Pleas’d, have I wand’red
through your rough domain;
Trod the pure virgin snows,
myself as pure;
Heard the winds roar, and
the big torrent burst;
Or seen the deep fermenting
tempest brew’d
In the grim evening sky.
Thus pass the time,
Till, through the lucid chambers
of the south,
Look’d out the joyous
spring, look’d out, and smil’d.

DOUGLAS’S ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF.

My name is Norval. On
the Grampian Hills
My father feeds his flocks;
a frugal swain,
Whose constant cares were
to increase his store,
And keep his only son, myself,
at home.
For I had heard of battles,
and I long’d
To follow to the field some
warlike lord:
And heav’n soon granted
what my sire deny’d.
This moon, which rose last
night, round as my shield,
Had not yet fill’d her
horns, when by her light,
A band of fierce barbarians,
from the hills
Rush’d, like a torrent,
down upon the vale,
Sweeping our flocks and herds.
The shepherds fled
For safety and for succour.
I alone,
With bended bow, and quiver
full of arrows,
Hover’d about the enemy,
and mark’d
The road he took; then hasted